Origins: The Reich (19 page)

“What does that accomplishment do for them?” Secretary Stimson asked.  “Throwing things up into space doesn’t hurt the English on the ground, now does it?”

Amid a chorus of soft chuckles at the joke, Hastelloy drew a picture on a plain piece of white paper.  The picture consisted of a circle, Earth, and an arched line going up and then down from one point on the circle to another.  “What goes up must come down.  In this case, the angle of descent is so steep that there’s no stopping the object, say a massive bomb, from hitting its target.  None whatsoever once they get the guidance figured out.”

Stone silence gave Hastelloy an opening to continue and press his real agenda for the meeting. “As for what sort of bomb they might deliver with this V-2 weapon, all my sources say that Germany is developing an atom bomb.  We don’t know a whole lot about it other than theoretical estimates place the destructive force in the neighborhood of a five hundred kiloton explosion.  Basically, entire cities would vanish in an instant with one of these atom bombs.”

Stunned faces led Hastelloy to conclude his update by asking, “Not so funny now, is it?”

President Roosevelt chewed the inside of his cheek in contemplation for a minute before looking over at his Secretary of War.  “We need to beat them to the punch.  They may not be a direct threat to us now with this V-2 rocket, but being able to reach North America would only be a matter of fuel and better steering.  I don’t care what it costs; we need to beat them to the punch.  I want a plan on my desk by next week detailing a project that will give us an atom bomb before the Germans, or anybody else for that matter.”

“Yes Mr. President.  I already have a long list of scientists we’ll need to recruit for the effort.  One in particular is far ahead of the pack and without question needs to be the project leader,” Hastelloy added.

“Put it in the proposal,” President Roosevelt said before changing the subject by shifting his gaze to the Secretary of State.  “Now, how are the new trade negotiations coming along with the Empire of Japan?  They have got to be feeling the pinch of no oil or steel by now.”

Hastelloy knew the details of this topic very well and decided to let his attention wander around the new office as the update progressed.  His eyes focused on the presidential seal stitched into an area rug that covered most of the hardwood flooring in the room.  The eagle held an olive branch for peace in its right talon and a clutch of arrows symbolizing war in its left.

For now, the seal had the eagle’s head facing the olive branch, but Hastelloy knew there was a second rug insert with the eagle’s head facing the arrows for display during times of war.  With any luck, that second version of the seal would be in use soon.

**********

“I assume you’re talking about the Manhattan Project?” Mark asked of Hastelloy.  A subtle affirmative nod gave him leave to continue, “Let me guess, your science officer, Tonwen, was tapped to lead the research project that gave mankind the most destructive weapon ever conceived.”

“Who else?” Hastelloy replied with his arms flung wide open.  “During his studies he cultivated deep relationships with some of the greatest minds of that generation.  I would go so far as to say that as Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, Tonwen was the only person on this planet who could have accomplished that monumental objective.”

“How did you get so many people with such liberal and borderline communist political ties accepted into the project?” Mark asked.  “The ultra-conservative military top brass had to have put their collective foot down to stop such appointments into the most secretive and expensive project the nation had ever undertaken to that point?”

“A heightened state of necessity has its own way of clearing inconvenient obstacles such as that,” Hastelloy answered.

Beneath the sands
of Egypt, Colonel Azire led his men down the three-mile stretch of metal lined tunnel at a forced pace that gave him flashbacks to his days of basic training.  He took no small measure of pride in being able to hold a seven-minute mile pace the entire way at his age.  He felt his ego deflate a bit though with a glance back at his men accomplishing the same feat while loaded down with backpacks, body armor and heavy weapons. 

His chest felt like it was about to explode, but time was of the essence.  The dead American soldier outside the Sphinx chamber would be due to report in at some point.  At that time, Azire and his men would lose the element of surprise, and they needed every advantage available to them to deal with Terrance and his elite Navy SEALs.

When his flashlight caught a glimpse of the three hundred foot tall ladder leading back to surface at the end of the tunnel, Colonel Azire felt a rush of both relief and panic.  In his haste to reach this point, he had left himself on empty to make the taxing climb back to the surface.  Azire reduced his pace and came to a trotting stop as his left hand reached for a ladder rung at eye level.  He gave a moment’s thought to leading the climb, but realized it was a fool’s notion.  He would only slow his men down, and they were the ones with the training and weaponry to take on the American soldiers standing guard at the top.

“Take another thirty seconds to settle your breathing,” Colonel Azire managed to say to his panting men.  “Then it will be masks on as we make the climb.  When you reach the top, the third and fourth man will toss up tear gas grenades as the first two enter the room and subdue the guards quickly and quietly if at all possible.  We cannot afford for a warning communication to be made.”

“Right; that’s enough of this standing around. Go.  Now,” Colonel Azire managed to force out of his hollow lungs.  His words saw his soldiers don their gas masks and dutifully begin the demanding climb.  Once his eighth and final soldier mounted the ladder, Azire place both hands on his knees and took an extra minute to catch his own breath before making the climb as well.

With every passing ladder rung, Azire realized he made the right choice in going last.  His men were climbing at twice his rate, outdistancing the reach of his flashlight.  Soon all he could hear was the sound of his own heavy breathing inside the constrictive gas mask.

Ten minutes into the climb Azire heard two sharp pops from up above, the tear gas grenades.  This was followed by a brief moment of shouting which ended in three loud gunshots and a sound suppressed rip from a silenced machine gun.  Thirty seconds after that, there was another exchange of gunfire until all fell silent up above.

For the remaining five minutes of his ascent, Colonel Azire could only speculate if his men were successful in taking the room or if a set of American handcuffs awaited him at the top.  When the moment of truth arrived, Azire poked his head up into the document storage room to find three of his men dead on the floor along with two American soldiers.

“Report,” Azire demanded of his two live soldiers in the room.

“We lost three in here and one more outside, but we did manage to take down all four Americans guarding the structure,” the nearest soldier reported.

“Where are the others?” the colonel asked.

“Outside, but I’m afraid things did not go quite according to plan.”

**********

Terrance heard the faint movement of fabric behind him and turned away from the computer desk to see Commander Allen cup his right hand over his ear to hear a situation update from his men.

“Acknowledged,” the stout, redheaded man said into his microphone as he directed his eyes toward Terrance.  “My man standing watch outside the sealed Sphinx chamber, Corporal Johnson, he missed his radio check in.”

“And your men guarding the tunnel exit point?” Terrance asked with a somewhat elevated state of alarm.  There could be any number of reasons the man was unable to check in.  Most were harmless, but a few could mean trouble.

“They are holding their position, but staying on high alert.  We’ll wait another check in cycle before they move to investigate the situation.  If Colonel Azire and his men have managed to get out of your trap, they’ll be apprehended without making a scene,” came a reply laced with resentment.  It was clear that Commander Allen preferred taking the direct approach in these situations, owing to some outdated code of honor between combatants no doubt.  The man had no appreciation for subtlety.

“That will have to do I suppose,” Terrance sighed and decided to throw Commander Allen’s wounded warrior pride a lifeline.  “It would be so much more elegant to have him trapped and out of communication while executing a plan he sponsored.  That’s how it’s supposed to work in my covert world.  When things go well, pieces are moved about or removed entirely without anyone being the wiser.”

“And when things go wrong?” Commander Allen fired back with a stern set of eyes.

The man’s naivety was amusing and drew a soft chuckle from Terrance’s otherwise rock-hard demeanor.  “That’s the time when guns come out and bombs start dropping.  That’s also where men like you come in so there’s that for you to look forward to, I suppose.”

A stiffening of his posture showed the commander’s condescending attitude had now changed to concern, “Things look like they’re going sideways on you, sir.  We’re surrounded and outnumbered a thousand to one by Egyptian forces who are our allies at the moment.  Are my men going to need their guns?  Do I need to tell those men watching the tunnel exit to prepare for a fire fight?”

“Not until the bombs start dropping,” Terrance answered an instant before the communications officer stepped into the command tent.  On his heels came a parade of men lugging tables and equipment. 

“Make magic happen, gentlemen,” Terrance ordered and stepped to the side while the small tent meant to run an archeological dig site was transformed into a military epicenter.

Commander Allen joined Terrance in his little corner and continued their conversation in a soft voice.  “When was the last time one of your operations went bad?  How did things turn out?”

Terrance contemplated ignoring the question, but decided to provide an answer since the example was from a few decades ago and well publicized.  “1989, we missed taking out Noriega.  President Bush, Sr. became impatient, so he ordered the invasion of Panama.”

“At that point men like you got to flex their muscle and shoot their guns for the cameras, but the only thing I remember about the whole episode was losing 23 service men because the NSA couldn’t keep it in the shadows.”

“The man was a murdering, drug trafficking criminal and a menace to stability in the region.  He had to go.  How would you have preferred to handle the situation?” Commander Allen countered, taking offense to the notion that his preferred way of doing things was the wrong way.

The reply Terrance wanted to give would have divulged classified information.  Instead, he kept his response short and vague.  “You didn’t have to invade Venezuela to remove America’s problem down there now did you?”

Commander Allen spent a moment sifting through his memory.  “You’re talking about Hugo Chávez?  The Venezuelan president died of natural causes; cancer, I believe.”

“Of course he did.  Perfectly ‘natural occurring’ cancer,” Terrance confirmed before moving his condescending eyes to the communications officer standing behind the SEAL team leader with his update.

“We are all wired up with Central Command in Qatar.  General Austin is standing by on the sat-comm display,” the young man reported as he removed his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead and smooth his hair down before replacing the hat back on his head.

Terrance looked back at Commander Allen and inclined his head toward the video conferencing unit.  “Come on, this involves you too.” 

When the two men reached the sat-comm workstation, the heavily lined face of a bald, black man was staring back at them with no nonsense eyes that conveyed his state of mind.  He may have been instructed to follow orders from Terrance, but he did not like it.

“General Austin,” Terrance began.  “Can I assume you have already been fully briefed on the situation here in Cairo?”

“I am aware of the new chambers found and their alleged connection with the alteration of the moon’s orbit earlier today leading to earthquakes and tidal surges worldwide,” the general confirmed in a curt, level tone.  “I’m also well aware of the repositioning of military hardware into the area at your…‘asking’.”

“Can you please confirm that the B2s are flying heavy with the new MOPs,” Terrance asked with a polite tone.

While the general spoke to his men off screen for confirmation, Commander Allen leaned into Terrance’s ear, “M-O-P?”

“Massive Ordnance Penetrator.  It’s the next generation of bunker buster bombs,” Terrance responded with a twinkle in his eye.  “5,000 pounds of explosives designed to penetrate through two hundred feet of solid concrete.  It was designed with Iran’s Fordo uranium enrichment facility in mind, but it’ll do the trick here as well.”

Commander Allen instinctively snapped back to attention when General Austin returned to the screen.  “Confirmed.  Four B2s are flying heavy with MOPs on board.”

“Excellent.  The SEAL team on site is about to head out and paint the target with their laser designators.  The birds will be a go in about ten minutes.  Please notify the crews while the SEALs get into position.”

The general’s obedient composure faltered upon hearing the order.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Now hold on just a minute.  Repositioning ships and planes around is one thing, but you are ordering an attack on a foreign country.  This could, and likely will, start a war.”

“To the outside world, it will be the equipment inside those chambers that caused the explosions,” Terrance countered.  “The beauty of having stealth planes is no one will ever know they were there.”

“I can’t possibly give that ord…”

“You can and you will,” Terrance interrupted with a sharp reprimand.  “By presidential decree you will give that order.  You must give that order.  Now for God, country and humanity, give that order.”

General Austin looked like a man forced to eat spoiled fish as he replied, “Yes sir.”

Terrance cut off the video transmission and turned to Commander Allen.  “That goes for you too.  Get four of your men into position.  One will target the Sphinx while the other three target separate locations on the pyramid near one of those chambers.”

“What about the fourth chamber inside the pyramid?”

“We need something to survive the blasts in order to prove the attack was justified in case those planes are detected,” Terrance instructed. 

Just then, a loud and urgent shout came through Commander Allen’s earpiece, loud enough that Terrance could hear the words loud and clear standing five feet away.

“Shots fired!  Shots fired from inside the tunnel exit building.  Moving to investi…” the frantic words were suddenly cut short and replaced by a second voice.

“Brady’s down.  The Egyptian forces are pushing out from the building with guns hot.”

A noisy exchange of machine gun fire gave Commander Allen the opportunity to issue orders.  “Fall back and maintain surveillance.”

“Can’t, they have me surrounded.  I can…ah, I’m hit.  I…” then the radio fell silent.

Terrance wasted no time.  He turned to the SEAL team communications officer.  “Block any attempts at electronic communications within a ten mile radius of that tunnel exit point.  I don’t want them getting out any signals.”

Terrence turned his focus toward Commander Allen who looked ready to disembowel somebody.  “This does not change the mission priority.  Whatever happens, the Pyramid and Sphinx must be reduced to rubble.  Paint the targets until the bombers arrive, then we’ll deal with our exit strategy along with Colonel Azire and his men.  Understood?”

Observing that the SEAL team leader was none too happy with his orders gave Terrance a chance to drive home his point made earlier.  “Chin up, Commander, this is your way of doing things isn’t it?”