02 Thunder of Heaven: A Joshua Jordan Novel (8 page)

In the Manhattan office of Jordan Technologies, Joshua and his research and development team had worked around the clock for two days on their design data for the commercial version of the RTS laser antimissile system. They had found nothing to explain the failure of RTS to stop the terrorist missile that downed the illfated 797. His engineers had theories, but no real answers.

Joshua was in his office with Ted. As Joshua looked out the window to the New York skyline, he thought back to something his weapons physicist, Caroline, had said. So Joshua put the question to Ted. “How soon can we get the data from the black box and the voice recorder?”

Ted said, “The FAA isn’t the problem. The real issue is getting the okay from Homeland Security to share the data with us. That’ll be a high hurdle.”

“I don’t understand,” Joshua complained. “We designed the system. We’re part of the team.”

“Yes and no. Don’t forget that the Feds placed all kinds of restrictions on a pilot’s ability to hit the RTS button — like getting permission from the tower first. It’s all part of their concern about the consequences if a missile is turned around in a highly populated area. The RTS could result in huge casualties on the ground — ”

“But we explained we were working on refinements to minimize collateral damage. Until then, our current RTS is the best thing going. They can’t blackball us.”

Ted pulled out his handheld wireless Allfone, clicked on the headline news, and said, “Maybe this will explain.”

Joshua looked at the screen. His stomach turned.

The headline read: “Return-to-Sender Failure Cited for Chicago Air Disaster.”

“You’ll notice,” Ted said, “that the media guys don’t report that terrorist crazies shot a missile at the plane and that’s why it fell from the sky.”

Ted took his Allfone back and started searching for something else. “Like we’ve said all along,” Ted noted, “the biggest obstacle is always the politics.” He swooped his finger over the screen. After a moment, he said, “Found it. Yeah, I wanted to see what AmeriNews had to say. They’re the only ones giving you a break.”

Joshua kept his mouth shut. If anyone on his tech team could be trusted to be discrete, it was Ted. Even so, Joshua had never shared with Ted his connection to AmeriNews. Joshua had been intimately involved with this controversial new entrant into the electronic media, the first to finally bust open the media monopoly that the White House had willingly allowed to develop and exploited for political purposes. The Roundtable was a secret group of like-minded business, political, and financial leaders with Joshua at its head. Together they had launched AmeriNews to counter the encroaching information censorship that had taken place throughout the country. Joshua had been so absorbed in receiving the RTS documents that he missed the headlines on his own news service.

“Okay,” Ted said, “AmeriNews reports — and this is just two hours ago — that they are questioning whether the Feds are being forthright in the investigation of the Chicago air disaster.”

“Any details?”

“No. Not yet. Just speculation. Wish they’d give us some specific information.”

Joshua knew why they couldn’t. Phil Rankowitz, the Roundtable’s media leader for AmeriNews, must not have been able to dig up anything either, even with the help of his high-octane team of investigative reporters.

“Okay, Ted,” Joshua had to admit, “I dreaded finding some design flaw in our commercial RTS. Frankly, I can’t see it yet. But I don’t
like not knowing either. Thanks for assembling the team and putting together all the schematics so quickly. Good effort. I’m flying back to Hawk’s Nest — as soon as Billy fuels up the jet.”

After Ted left, Joshua called Phil Rankowitz and talked to him about the upcoming meeting of the Roundtable at his Colorado estate. “Phil, I just read your headline blurb.”

“About the Chicago jet shootdown?”

“Right. What do you know that I don’t? And what aren’t you able to say yet on AmeriNews?”

“Only one thing. There’s a blogger who keeps popping up with stuff that drives the media moguls and the White House crazy. He runs something called Leak-o-paedia. Remember the old days of WikiLeaks, the blog that used to post highlevel leaks and cause all kinds of chaos? Well, this is the next generation, but with a twist. This guy is different. He doesn’t just get classified documents and dump them into the public sphere. He does the old-fashioned, high-definition kind of investigative reporting where there’s honest-to-gosh highlevel corruption, then posts his stories before he gets shut down.”

“Who is he?”

“A former investigative reporter named Belltether … used to work at a newspaper before print journalism went the way of the dodo bird.”

“What’s his angle?”

“Not sure, but one of our AmeriNews stringers says he heard from a friend of a friend who knows Belltether that he’s working on a scoop on the Flight 199 attack.”

“I think you’ve got something up your sleeve, Phil.”

“I do. If his story checks out, we may want to buy it as an Ameri News exclusive. Belltether doesn’t sound like he’s rolling in dollars. If he’s a former print reporter, he’s probably living off a diet of grub worms by now. I’m sure we could work a deal with him, offer him money to hire him for an exclusive, give him our platform.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ve got some things of my own I need to bring up at the Roundtable. See you in a couple of days at Hawk’s Nest.”

After the call, Joshua hit speed dial on his Allfone for an encrypted number.

It rang three times and a man picked up. “Patriot” was all he said.

Joshua could tell it was Pack McHenry, the head of the private unit of former spies and ex-intelligence “spooks” that the Roundtable occasionally worked with.

“Pack, we need to talk. I’ve got a crisis.”

“By my book, you’ve got more than one. Which crisis are you calling about?”

Joshua pondered that and said, “The missile attack on Flight 199.”

“We’re still working on that. Nothing new. But I expect something to break any day.”

“What other crisis are you talking about?”

“National security. The nuke threat. The things I’d mentioned to you and the Roundtable some time ago but could never nail down. It looks like we’ll have something for you in forty-eight hours.”

“Perfect. We’re meeting in two days.”

“I’ll connect with you and your group via encrypted flashmail video. But be forewarned …”

“Oh?”

“It won’t be pretty.”

At Hawk’s Nest, before the Roundtable met, Joshua took his son, Cal, aside. “I know you wanted to talk …”

“Nothing urgent. But yeah, I’d like to talk, Dad.”

“How about after the Roundtable conference?”

Cal was nonchalant. “No problem.”

Joshua nodded. He was tempted to pursue it. He loved Cal. The terror episode of the year before had made him appreciate his son even more. Even though, strangely, it hadn’t seemed to have brought them any closer together.

He clapped Cal on the shoulder before striding into the conference room in the working wing of his lodge. Every chair around the huge table was filled. The wall of windows offered a breathtaking view of the mountains, but no one was taking in the view. They were staring at something else.

All eyes were on the wall-sized InstantSat video screen at the end of the room. The supersecure flashmail satellite feed was about to start. The Roundtable included some of America’s most successful entrepreneurs, media executives, former politicians, judges, and retired military leaders. Most were multimillionaires; some were worth more. All were powerful influences in their fields.

Abigail was at the table. Retired judge Fortis “Fort” Rice had insisted that she head up the group’s legal unit, although with Joshua acting as the chair, she kept a low profile.

One new member was in attendance, a recently retired special
agent from the FBI, a paunchy fellow named John Gallagher, who looked slightly out of place. He wore a crumpled suit and a golf shirt that didn’t match his jacket. While at the Bureau he had a reputation for two things: an eccentric approach that put him at odds with FBI protocol and an effective knack for cracking terrorist cells.

Joshua stood up and addressed the group. “In a minute, you will hear the voice of one of our most trusted allies. I am one of the few people here who knows his identity.”

Joshua gave John Gallagher a quick glance. The former special agent was the only person in the room, besides Abigail, who knew who Pack McHenry was. Gallagher had dealt with McHenry’s Patriot group, a private cadre of security and intelligence gurus, during the nerve-rattling incident at New York’s Grand Central Station. That was where Gallagher had first come into contact with Joshua, Cal, and the rest of the Jordan family. At that time, Gallagher, as the chief of the Bureau’s New York terrorism unit, had long been tracking Atta Zimler, still number two on the FBI’s most wanted list. The episode at the train station was as close as he’d ever come to Zimler.

But not close enough.

Joshua continued. “Our contact’s voice will be altered and his image scrambled, but his information will be unimpeachable. You will know him only as the Patriot. He leads a group of volunteers, all of whom formerly worked in the national security system or law enforcement. His group decided, as we have, that the fate of our nation hangs perilously in the balance. Our leaders are either incapable or, worse, unwilling to take the steps necessary to save us. So the Patriots decided to take responsible action, as we have. You are about to hear about the grave threat that our country is facing.”

The video screen lit up. In the live feed, a man was sitting at a desk, his face digitally blurred.

“Good day,” said the image. “As I proceed, if anyone has questions, don’t hesitate to interrupt me. We have credible information that a nuclear strike inside the United States is imminent. I’m talking
within
American shores. I know Joshua has mentioned this to you before, but only in general terms. Today I can be more specific. Our agents have
traced this threat to the Russian Federation. Reliable sources indicate that meetings orchestrated by Moscow have been held at a special location in Kyrgyzstan. We believe the two other nation states involved are North Korea and Iran. It appears that Kyrgyzstan is the strategic planning site for these attacks.”

Former senator Alvin Leander, a short, feisty man with a bald head, shot out the first question. “Why Kyrgyzstan, for crying out loud?”

The man on the screen was precise as he explained. “We have to start with Russia’s overthrow of Kyrgyzstan in April of 2010. In subsequent years, America retreated from its military air base there. The U.S. gave up our military base near Bishkek, which we had been using for our war in Afghanistan before we withdrew militarily from that country. As a result, it left Russia in unchallenged control of Kyrgyzstan. Russia managed to take control over the entire Collective Security Treaty Organization, the regional security coalition of all the former Soviet republics. With Kyrgyzstan firmly in Moscow’s lap, and a slow, steady process of putting all of its neighboring republics back under the Russian thumb, we see something amazing and very dangerous: the former Soviet empire has been entirely reconstructed — without any international condemnation or sanctions from the U.N. And this time without the need for a bloody revolution. Of course the current administration in Washington is aware of this but has opted to treat the rise of Russian power diplomatically. They don’t see the risks.

“There is one more thing …,” the man on the screen added.

There was a pause. Leander said, “We’re waiting.”

“That Kyrgyzstan site is being monitored. A North Korean nuclear expert attended a meeting there. But we have intelligence that Iran is also involved.”

“So you think Iran is in on this nuclear plot?”

“Exactly.”

“Against the U.S.?”

“Iran may have a role, but their main interest is Israel. As we know, Iranian leaders have long harbored the desire to obliterate Israel. The other player, North Korea, has long despised our nation and wants to retaliate against the United States for destroying one of their navy
vessels with the successful use of Mr. Jordan’s RTS system. So, that’s the playbook and the players.”

Retired general “Rocky” Bridger, a stocky man with short salt-and-pepper hair, jumped in. He took off his reading glasses and tapped them on the table. “What’s the operational plan for the attack?”

“We don’t have anything definitive yet, but some data indicate that portable nuclear devices are involved.”

Bridger followed up. “Have you shared this with our government?”

“Of course. Central Intelligence Agency, Defense Intelligence Agency, and the FBI. I’ve sent this to all of my contacts.”

“And?” Bridger wondered out loud.

“At first, some interest. But as time goes on, we have no assurances that our leads will be followed up on — and some evidence that they never will.”

“How would you know if they had or hadn’t? You don’t have the same resources as the government.”

“I can’t reveal sources, General, but we have friends in critical positions along the chain of command. They report that the data we shared with key federal agencies was … well … treated like a patient declared DOA in an emergency room.”

Now Gallagher piped up. “Are you saying there’s a cancer in the government?”

“Mr. Gallagher, I’m not at liberty to speculate. That’s one thing we don’t do. I’m tempted … but just can’t go any further. The new consolidation of national security agencies, while that has had some advantages, has one big disadvantage: there are now fewer people at the top who have the power to decide when to pursue and when not to pursue a threat.”

Gallagher wouldn’t let up. “Well, let’s assume that there’s something rotten. How high? Attorney General? Higher than that?”

Now Joshua turned to the former FBI special agent and had to draw the line. “John, our contact said he won’t speculate. We have to leave it at that.”

Gallagher shrugged with obvious displeasure.

“I have a question,” Joshua said. “You said portable nuclear devices. How do you know?”

“The device that triggers a nuclear bomb is called a neutron initiator. Now Russia’s always known how to make them. They were in the nuke race with us for years. Supposedly, since the New START Treaty with the U.S. under President Obama, they were going to stop further testing and development of offensive nuclear weapons, but we know differently. And at the same time, we were hampered in developing antimissile defenses. Even your own RTS is arguably forbidden under the START treaty, at least according to the Russians. But Russia started partnering with North Korea and Iran to get them to do Russia’s bidding in the nuclear race. That way they could look clean but act dirty. Years ago, all the way back in 2009, everybody — U.S. intelligence, the Brits, the International Atomic Energy Agency — all had evidence that Iran was experimenting with uranium deuteride, used as a neutron source for the trigger system for nukes. But now, one of our contacts in Kyrgyzstan tells us he’s seen documents passed between the Russian nuclear scientists and the North Koreans, and between the Russians and the Iranians. These papers show plans for the manufacture of very small neutron initiator systems, so small that the entire nuclear weapon could fit into the size of, say, a funeral coffin or the bed of a small pickup truck. We’ve also been told something else — and this is critical — that there was some kind of transportation timetable.”

Joshua zeroed in on that. “You’re talking transportation of a weapon?”

“No. Weapons. Plural. Two of them.”

The next question was the most important one, and everyone in the room knew it. Gallagher leaned forward, his hands flat on the conference table as if he was going to vault off a gymnastic side horse at the Olympics.

Joshua asked, “What’s the timetable?”

The man on the screen leaned back in his chair and delivered the bad news.

“The clock’s already ticking.”